


Nice Men

by azrielen



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: (sort of), Eggsy has a hell of a mouth on him, Eggsy is not a gentleman, Harry Hart Lives, Harry Hart is not a nice man, Humiliation, M/M, Mild torture, Neither is Eggsy, Neither is Merlin, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spitroasting, Throat Fucking, dark!fic, gendered slurs, so much cursing, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azrielen/pseuds/azrielen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are not nice men. Eggsy finds he’s more than fine with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rageprufrock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rageprufrock/gifts).



Harry Hart is not a nice man.

Eggsy comes to understand this in stages, starting almost immediately. The first time Eggsy lays eyes on him, Harry is nothing more than a posh bloke leaning up against the wall outside a police station, giving him the eye. And maybe Eggsy likes it, yeah? Maybe he walks with a little more swagger in his step as he talks to this walking silver spoon who introduces himself as Harry Hart and smiles at Eggsy like he knows just what he wants and just what Eggsy _needs_.

And then there’s a pub, and Harry fucking Hart tearing Dean’s goons a new arsehole or three, a lot of useless shouting from the man himself and Harry’s voice like the voice of _God_ and, well.

If Eggsy runs away from Dean’s worse-for-wear minions with half a stiffy in his jeans, it’s not entirely his fault, is all.

\-----

Harry Hart is--

Sod nice, Harry Hart is a right fucking bastard, leaving Eggsy in the care of this Scottish wanker who threatens his mum and locks him in with a pack of public school tossers and then, to top it all off, tries to drown them all and has the nerve to give them a bollocking over some cunt’s inability to swim. Yeah, Eggsy realizes that’s a bit uncharitable, but he’s not feeling very giving at the moment, tied to a chair as he is with Merlin all up on him.

Role-playing, he’d said; giving them a taste of what they’d be in for.

Eggsy leans forward as much as his bound wrists will allow until he’s inches from Merlin’s face and its unreadable expression, and then he spits right in the fucking thing. Merlin doesn’t react, just leans back and wipes blood and spit off his face with his ridiculous tartan pocket square. “Tough little shite,” he says, humming a little and favoring Eggsy with a rare half-smile. “Think you’re a real rock ‘n’ rolla, hmm?” He tucks his pocket square neatly back into his blood-flecked suit jacket. 

Eggsy doesn’t answer, just gives the old man the sort of smile that had gotten him in trouble more than once. He slumps back into the chair, letting his legs fall open like he owns the thing, like he owns the whole fucking room, Merlin included. Merlin’s still just looking at him, cold as concrete, so Eggsy licks at his own split bottom lip, smearing the copper tang of blood over the bruised, swollen skin. 

Merlin backhands him hard enough that the chair falls over backward, cracking Eggsy’s head on the floor. 

\-----

Harry Hart was not a nice man. 

There’s a stuffed dog and a cherry red study and a whole wardrobe full of things Eggsy doesn’t have words to describe in Harry’s bedroom. He was a strange fucker, is what he was, the sort of mystery Eggsy doesn’t want to solve because the sum was greater than its parts.

Eggsy sees the surveillance tapes from the church, watches an animal in a bespoke suit tear the life out of a hundred pieces of American shite without blinking. He watches through Harry’s glasses as Harry puts up his token protest and gets shot in the face. “I killed all those people,” Harry’s voice says. Eggsy’s never once heard Harry sound insincere, even when he was stating less than the truth. This isn’t any different. _“I wanted to.”_

Eggsy comes all over Harry’s thousand thread count sheets thinking about Harry’s hands, red with blood, driving the frame of a spent gun into a man’s neck.

\-----

Eggsy Unwin is not a nice man.

He spits on Valentine’s corpse and saves the world. He fucks a princess in the arse and calls her Harry. 

\-----

Harry Hart is, however, alive.

“You fucking sodding _arsehole_!”

Merlin has to hold Eggsy back when he enters the briefing room to keep him from clawing his way across the stupid not-even-Round Table and strangling Harry fucking Hart to a second death. 

Harry has an eyepatch and a wicked scar and a cup of Earl Grey that he sips quietly until Merlin has a bruised jaw and Eggsy has nearly worn himself out. “If you’re quite finished?”

“Piss off!,” Eggsy growls, but finally manages to shove Merlin away. He’s around the table in an instant and face-down on it with his arm wrenched painfully behind his back just as fast. Harry’s hands grip his wrist and the back of his neck like a vice, tightening as he tries to get his free hand behind him to grab at Harry. He has no finesse and no leverage in this moment, but he can feel Harry’s cock pressing against his thigh through too many layers of fabric where Harry’s keeping his hips pinned.

“Manners, Eggsy.”

Merlin snorts from somewhere at the other end of the table. “Might as well try teaching them to a distempered mutt.”

Eggsy bears his teeth against the buffed mahogany and watches Harry’s smile, sharp and full of _promise_.

\-----

Harry and Merlin are not nice men.

Merlin fucks his throat mercilessly, cock big and solid and relentless. Eggsy gags and coughs around it, not because he needs to, but because it makes Merlin grip his hair harder and hold him down, mashing Eggsy’s nose into the coarse hair at the base. Eggsy rubs his tongue against the hot, pulsing vein and squeezes the head with his throat to hear Merlin’s accent thicken around a curse. 

His eyes are watering and his vision is black at the edges by the time Merlin lets him up to pant and drool as he catches his breath. Merlin gives his own cock a rough, slow stroke, squeezing out thin drops of come to smear across Eggsy’s lips and chin. “Filthy little cunt,” Merlin says, the approval rumbling through his voice making Eggsy’s cock smack up against his wet belly. “Show Harry.”

Merlin takes him by the throat and forces his head to the side, thumb pressing hard up under his jaw to tilt his head back. The angle is painful, but it lets him see Harry out of the corner of his eye; it lets Harry see his slick, puffy lips as Merlin slides his cock along them and the way Eggsy’s tongue pushes out to lick at him. Harry doesn’t comment, but he presses both his thumbs alongside Eggsy’s aching hole and stretches him open for the blunt head of Harry’s cock. It feels like a reward.

Nice men, Eggsy thinks as he swallows the thick length of Merlin’s cock back down, are overrated.

**Author's Note:**

> I may have conflated two of my favorite Mark Strong characters a bit here. I’m not sorry. Go watch Guy Ritchie’s _RocknRolla_ immediately. Classic fucking cinema.
> 
> This fic was partly inspired by reading [rageprufrock's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rageprufrock/pseuds/rageprufrock) exceptional and exceptionally smutty [Squeeze](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3583065). Go. Read that. Now.


End file.
